Many thanks to our readers who contributed a fine story and a poem this month. If you have an article or a contribution please do send it in to us.

Of course the country is gearing up for Christmas at the moment with many people hoping that the very worst of the economic downturn is now behind us. After 5 years of austerity it is hoped that 2014 will mark something of a turning point for the country. Let us hope so!

Until next time,

Michael

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A 'Black Friday' promotion for cut-price televisions in an Asda Store in Belfast went horribly wrong when a stampede of eager shoppers turned into a mob. A woman had to be hospitalized with a suspected broken arm and other injuries while it was claimed that a pregnant woman was knocked to the ground. Pensioners also suffered in the mad dash for the bargains.

One witness remarked: 'It was just a free-for-all. It was frightening," she said. "People were getting trailed to the ground. People were arguing. Two of my friends were injured.'

DUBLIN PROPERTY MARKET SURGE PROMPTS FEARS OF A NEW BUBBLE

If anyone was thinking of buying a property in Dublin after the property crash of 2008 in the hope of snagging a bargain then they may have left it too late. The collapse in value of houses and apartments in Ireland's capital city ranged from 50% to 65% depending on the report that was cited. What is clear is that the grossly inflated prices were brought dramatically back down to earth.

Since 2008 prices have continued to fall and it is only over the last years that things have started to improve. Indeed there are certain enclaves of Dublin where prices are increasing, and rapidly.

The so-called 'golden triangle' of South Dublin has been expanded by estate-agent hyperbole to include an area north of the River Liffey. The less fashionable north side of Dublin city has seen some huge price increase in places like Marino and Clontarf where demand has far outstripped supply.

Another phenomenon not seen since the building boom is the return of 'Van-Man'. The all-action builder/painter/decorator/tiler/carpenter who seems to live in his Ford Transit Van has once again been spotted in big numbers skirting the Dublin streets. The reappearance of huge Cranes dotting the city skyline is also a very telling sign that the construction industry, previously on its knees, may be about to embark on a big recovery.

Of course the scale of the building activity is a far cry from the heady days of the 'Celtic Tiger' boom. But as one departed sage remarked decades ago: 'When the builders are doing well then the economy does well.'

Here we go again?

IRELAND TO EXIT EU/IMF/ECB LOANS PROGRAM

Ireland's status as the best-performing of the 4 EU countries who received EU/IMF/ECB loans has been reinforced by the decision of the Irish Government to emerge from the financial program.

After the sequence of events in Ireland, Greece, Portugal and Cyprus that nearly brought about the collapse of the Euro currency the exit from the program is being flagged as an important psychological step for both Ireland and the EU itself. The loans given to the Irish authorities are not scheduled to be completely repaid until 2042, such was the extent of the economic disaster that befell the country.

In a surprising move the Irish Government has decided to exit the loans program without availing of any future 'line of credit' should the vastly indebted Irish banks again need to be saved. While the cost of sovereign debt to Ireland has greatly reduced over the last couple of years the impact of any big economic event in Europe could easily trigger a new recession and wave of bank failures.

Against this background the decision of the Irish government to restore 'economic sovereignty' as they put it is being viewed in some quarters as hubristic, arrogant, short-sighted and dangerous.

Has the need for a political victory seduced the Fine Gael government into a big mistake?

Only time will tell.

IRISH BABY BOOM IN DECLINE

It may be a result of the economic troubles of recent years and it may also be a result of the huge number of mostly younger people who have emigrated from Ireland since 2008 but what is clear is that the Irish 'baby-boom' is faltering.

Recent statistic have revealed that there were 5% fewer births recorded in the second quarter of 2013 compared to the same quarter the previous year. The numbers released by the Central Statistics Office have shown that the population of Ireland is now 4.593 Million people.

The average age at which first-time mothers are giving birth has also increased to 30.2 years on average, up from 29.9 years of age a year ago. 1.9 babies per mother in Ireland are now being born in 2013 compared with 2.1 babies in 2008.

MAN ACCUSED OF PUNCHING HOLE IN 10 MILLION EURO MONET PAINTING

The 1874 painting 'Argenteuil Basin with a Single Sailboat', the only Claude Monet painting owned by the Irish National Gallery, has been badly damaged. A man claimed he fell into the painting at the Dublin Gallery but was charged with criminal damage and is on trial, accused of deliberately punching a hole in the masterpiece.

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Christmas in Ireland has a number of traditions that seem to be all of our own. Of course while many countries have similar traditions at the festive time of year, Irish traditions are steeped in the mythology of the nativity and the history of conflict within the country.

THE CANDLE IN THE WINDOW

A tradition that was very widespread in the 1970's but which seems to be dying out somewhat and especially in urban areas is the 'candle in the window'. Symbolically the candle represented a welcome to Joseph and Mary as they wandered in search of lodgings. The candle indicated to strangers and especially to the poor that there may be an offering of food in the house within.

During the Penal Times in Ireland Catholic priests were forbidden to perform Mass so the candle acted as a covert signal that the occupier was a Catholic believer and that mass could be held on the premises.

MARY

Mary the mother of Jesus was especially revered in Ireland at Christmas. There are many traditions involving girls named Mary which at one time was by far the most popular female name in the country. The candle in the window was often to be lit by a girl named Mary and only extinguished by her. The removal of decorations in January were also often to be punctuated by a visit from a Mary.

THE WREN BOY PROCESSION

The Wren Boy Procession has been revived in recent years with parades being held on St. Stephens Day in Sandymount in Dublin and other locations. There are several legends regarding the 'wren boy'.

One such tale tells of a plot in a village against some British soldiers during Penal times. The soldiers were surrounded and were about to be ambushed when a group of wrens pecked on their drums raising the alarm. The plot failed and thus the wren became known as 'The Devil's Bird'.

To commemorate this deed a procession takes place where a pole with a holly bush is carried from house to house and families dress up in old clothes and with blackened faces. In ancient times an actual wren bird would be killed and placed on top of the pole.

It is possible that the very Irish tradition of visiting houses of friends and relatives on St. Stephens Day traces its origin to these events.

THE LADEN TABLE

The centre-piece of the Christmas holiday in Ireland is the Christmas Dinner. After the often lavish meal the kitchen table was again set and on it was placed some bread and milk and the table adorned with the welcoming candle. If Mary and Joseph, or any wandering traveller, happened by then they could avail of the hospitality.

IRISH CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS

The widespread practice of placing a ring of Holly on a front door started in Ireland. Holly was one of the main plants that flourished at Christmas time in Ireland and gave the poorer population means with which to decorate their homes.

LITTLE CHRISTMAS

All Christmas decorations are usually taken down and put away on 'Little Christmas' (January 6th.). It is considered very bad luck to remove the decorations and Christmas tree before this date.

MODERN TRADITIONS

Modern Ireland has changed vastly from the times when these Irish Christmas traditions flourished and have often been replaced with newer more secular ones. St. Stephens Day is still regarded as a day to visit family and friends but is also a great sporting day with horse-racing, football and a myriad of other sports taking prominence.

Many workers take the entire week off between Christmas Day and New Years Day with many businesses completely closing down during this time.

Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve is also very well attended and is often adorned with a choir, the Church with a Manger and Nativity scene.

A Christmas Day swim is practised in certain parts of Ireland with perhaps the most famous being at the 'Forty Foot' tiny beach in South Dublin.

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CELLACHAN OF CASHEL - THE FIRST O'CALLAGHAN
by Seamus O'Donoghue
=============================================

As the humidity over Áth Cliath thickened and the heat of the day gave rise to threatening cumulonimbus clouds, the vastly outnumbered Berserkers along the banks of the Dothra fell like fragile dominoes under the Eóganacht cyclone.

They were first savaged by the war-hounds of Mumu and beaten down by the vanguard of mounted chiefs and nobles, then gored to death by the swords and spears of the rampaging phalanxes which followed through.

As expected, not one of the fearless Lochlannach elite cast his weapons to the ground in capitulation, or fled from certain destruction, but the few that did manage to survive the Mumu onslaught were given an honourable death and had their heads swiftly severed from their necks by the Gaels.
With all the river outposts crushed, and the entire settlement south of the Ruirthech surrounded, Cellachan's Army closed ranks and pushed towards the protective palisades that straddled the suburbs of Áth Cliath.

However, as it approached the high embankments upon which the palisades and gates stood, it came under sustained attack from the thousands of Lochlannach archers within and was forced to temporarily withdraw from their shooting range.
Cellachan's warriors then responded by sending forth cascades of flaming arrows - not to kill their foreign enemy, but to set the lengths of combustible fencing alight and to place a screen of smoke and fire between both sides.

The moderate breeze of the day was also in their favour and as it fanned the orange flames, burning embers rose from the crackling and hissing wood and floated inwards and down onto the populated streets.

Before long, the intense heat caused the wattled houses nearest the palisades to burst into flames and not even the pails of water, which the inhabitants so desperately threw over them, could quench the raging infernos.

Soon, men, women, and children, were fleeing for their lives and not even the mighty Berserkers defending the edges of the town could withstand the heat and the suffocating smoke. They were forced to retreat with the others and left the Gaelic enemy to scale the crumbling ramparts and barge through the undefended gates.

The magnitude of the noise and the chaos that greeted the intruding Mumu warriors was like none they'd ever experienced before. So loud was it, that it almost drowned out their own war-cries.

Women were shrieking and running, and dragging bawling children along with them towards the centre of the town; domesticated goats and woolly sheep, along with pigs and cows and all types of foul, were screeching with terror in their pens, while other beasts leapt in blind panic through the crowded streets, barging through anything and anyone that got in their way; and Lochlannach warriors, both on foot and on horseback, yelling and screaming orders at each other, as they desperately sought to reorganise themselves during the disorder.

By the time the Mumu warriors took their first steps inside the cindering palisades, the Lochlannachs had managed to regroup and were now between the scampering population and the enemy.

The remaining battalions of Berserkers had split into tightly knit detachments and had taken up positions on the foremost streets, in an east-west pattern, while the rest of the infantry had swarmed behind into long and thick phalanxes around the houses that were still intact.

With weapons at the ready, they all stood firm and hoped that king Olaf Cuaran would return in time to give the word that would see them part ranks and allow their mounted comrades at the rear to rush out and wreak havoc among the Gaels, before they themselves were instructed to battle. But Cellachan's warriors inadvertently obliged the poised Lochlannachs and didn't charge forward the instant they entered. They'd been ordered not to engage until he'd made the offer of safe passage for the women and children.

So there they stood, only a furlong or so apart; both sides staring odiously at each other, spouting insults and jeers, until the Lochlannachs began hurling whatever sticks and stones they could lay their hands on.

The Gaels, with their hounds straining on their leashes, chanted Gaelic curses and some even showed their utter disgust for the foreigners by spitting and urinating on the poor souls that hadn't escaped their fiery arrows.

As much as the furious Lochlannach chiefs wanted to countermand their king's order and go get revenge, they somehow forced themselves to bite their tongues, and watched as their warriors retaliated with their own curious hexes, followed by lumps of human shit which they'd retrieved from the local buckets, and more sticks and stones.

The ferocity of the Lochlannach barrages became so bad, that those at the front of the Gaelic lines were forced to stoop and take shelter under their shields, and as Ribordan and Suilleban bravely rode forward in an attempt to address the enemy, they both took the brunt of the punishment and were eventually forced to retreat to the base of the rampart where Cellachan waited.

"Damn those feckin' heathens!" Suilleban angrily bawled, as he tried to dislodge the spatterings of foul smelling excrement that had exploded onto his arms and face.
"Animals! That's all they are! Bloody animals! Just give the word, Cellachan, so I can get in there and rip their flippin' heads off."
"All in good time, Suilleban," Cellachan replied, as he steadied his fidgety mount and tried hard not to smirk at the chief's fetid misfortune.
"Blood and guts I can stand, but a man's dirt...that's a different matter altogether."
"Especially Lochlannach dirt," Ribordan commented, with revulsion.
"I told ya they wouldn't listen," Cellachan said. "It has to be me."
"I'd rather take another battering of muck, Cellachan, than risk having ya cut down by one of their eagle-eyed bowmen while ya speak," Suilleban stringently replied.

"'Tis time ya stopped worrying about me," Cellachan graciously remarked. "I'll be grand. I'll have my shield to protect me, from dirt and arrow. Donnacha will be back soon. He has gone to organise the rest of the units, so ye lads should get ready to lead these brave battalions here straight into battle, if Olaf Cuaran declines my proposition. Remind your men, however, that the Lochlannach women and children, and those that wish to surrender, aren't to be harmed in any way. They're to be treated with dignity."
"Of course," Ribordan replied, with a little hint of sarcasm. "Shur aren't we gettin' well used to taking those foreign brats under our wings. The men and women can be tamed, but their wildcat offspring can be extremely troublesome."
"Hah! I often hear tales about a mighty Mumu chief that was exactly the same in his youthful days," Cellachan quipped, as he squeezed his legs to get his horse walking. "I think they called him...Ribordan."

He then made his way up the rampart through the mass of warriors and crossed over a grey carpet of hot ash that marked where a section of the palisade had once stood. His snorting, haughty mare, never once shied from the odd simmering ember that her hooves kicked up, nor did she fret over the horrendous dissonance that both sides still created. She did, however, seem to take offence at being hit by the small sticks and stones that were being thrown and, of course, the human dirt.

"Easy girl," Cellachan soothed from beneath his shield, as she pawed the ground with her front right hoof and tugged on the reigns with sturdy nods of her head. She side-stepped from left to right, eager to charge into the Lochlannach offenders, but he managed to hold her at bay, even as his lower body was being bombarded by the flying objects and getting peppered with the muck.

"I'm Cellachan of Cashel, king of Mumu!" he yelled, as he held his ground regardless of the onslaught. "I'm here to speak with yer king!"

Earlier this year, my sister and I traveled to County Cavan hoping to find the farm where my grandfather and his family worked before emigrating to the US in 1893. Thanks to our gracious B&B host, we were able to locate the farm and had a great afternoon visiting with the dairy farmer who now owns it. My grandfather left Ireland at age 15 - he didn't say a lot about why his family left but family lore says that his father, my great-grandfather, was executed on the farm by British soldiers due to suspected Irish Brotherhood activity. After returning from our visit, I was inspired to composed the attached poem trying to capture the thoughts of my grandfather as they left their hometown.

Mark

On Leaving Drumrush – 1893
(for Louis Teevan Reilly)

No, there is not a drop of honey
To be tasted in this vale of blossoms
Without first smelling how reason has rotted
And feeling the sting of the invading bee
Fresh from the buttercups' false promise
That herald only flowers on a grave

Yes, we held our ground, held it dear to life
We were in league with the land,
in league with the righteous
Da saw the sense of it
He knew the need, knew the risk
Aye, that I could take the steps he took
To walk proudly in his boots
To affront oppression and spit in its face
Now his oppressors walk with shame,
through black and endless guilt

No, he did not leave us without great legacy
Because he was feared and his actions were right
His brotherhood caused the powers to quake
With their ancient machines rusting in the road
They knew that land that is worked is land that lives
And those who work it are its breath and blood
So they marched out to spill that blood
and drown this green townland

Yes, justice was killed, and a brotherhood wounded
And my family today has no head, no heart, no healing
Here all my tomorrows are dead and gone
They are with my father in the grave

No, I will not catch brown trout from the river Erne again
No more will I cross Kilconny bridge or kneel silently in Staghall
I've heard the last of music on Belturbet market day
Now Ma says the times are calling, we must make for Amerikay

Yes, 'tis strange but I'll admit I'll miss the flax beds' stench
And washing myself in the Erne, as we did, clothes and all
I'll hunger for the sowens and for warm brown bread
Ma at the oven and Da in the shed
The lane in the spring and the road to the town

No, Ma's sorrow will not abide, though a new life calls,
Still she cries. Times so hard they rob the heart
Gray clouds drape our door
and the hills appear as shadows
Drumrush is soaked in madness and mud
To stray away the time is ripe, to Amerikay we'll sail

Yes, my brothers say this is no country for young men
So we will rise and go now to the banks of the Ohio
And we will find some peace there,
though peace comes dropping slow
Farewell sweet Drumrush, 'tis to the Ethiopia we roll
With my world on my back and seeds for harvest under my hat
The northern road we'll take
And see all things strange and new

Mark S. Reilly

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